


Deliverance

by Stray_Lilly



Series: Redemption [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Amputation, Anal Sex, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Cults, Emotional Manipulation, Graphic Description, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Ritual Sex, Torture, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 03:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21313345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Lilly/pseuds/Stray_Lilly
Summary: The worthier way. There were a lot of bad things Jeongin wanted to do. Chan offered him a worthier way.Sequel to Damnation.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin & Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Minho | Lee Know/Yang Jeongin | I.N
Series: Redemption [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536478
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Damnation so I recommend reading that first. Nothing in this fic is okay. Please read the tags before you continue and stop if you feel uncomfortable.

Hark, villains, I will grind

your bones to dust,

And with your blood and

it I’ll make a paste,

And of the paste a coffin

I will rear,

And make two pasties of

your shameful heads,

**\- Titus Andronicus, Act 5, Scene 2, William Shakespeare **

Several tubes were connected to Case Study 49’s body. Two clear ones – one discharging oxygen into his veins, another secreting nutrients. The third was an ugly yellow colour, lodged into the skull to drain excess fluids. And the fourth one was dark red in colour, almost purple, dispensing someone else’s blood into his veins. 

The bastard didn’t deserve that. 

He’d shot his girlfriend in the head before turning the gun on himself. But now she was six feet under, while he was supposedly fighting for his life.

Why fight  _ now _ ? Why fight when you so badly wanted to die? No, it wasn’t  _ him _ fighting for his life. These stupid doctors were fighting for his life.

If he survived, he’d be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life – unable to talk, unable to eat by himself, unable to shit by himself. But that wasn’t enough. Not enough to ease the suffering of the girl’s family, not enough to bring the girl back to life, not enough to help her graduate college,  _ not enough _ .

The doctor was drawling on about how unpredictable gunshot wounds to the head were. “You’re lucky if there’s just one hemisphere damaged,” the doctor said. “As long as the other is intact.”

_ Luck. _ So luck had saved him? 

Jeongin could change that. He would. The security card he’d stolen yet again, this time from a nurse bent over an x-ray, burned a hole in his jeans pocket, and his gaze kept flicking to the cameras placed in the corners of the room. 

“On to Case Study 50,” the doctor waved them over to the next patient, directly across from Case Study 49. “Take notes. This one’s important for your practical.”

Jeongin lingered just a bit longer, fingers itching to wrench out the tubes from Case Study 49’s body. He was strong, Jeongin could see. The muscles in his arms popped out as oxygen pumped into his body at a steady rate. Jeongin wanted to reach out and pinch his meaty flesh. He licked his lips. He couldn’t. Not now.

He tore his eyes away from the male and joined the rest of his class. He had that feeling in the pit of his stomach again. Desire, thirst, hunger, need, hate, all bubbling slowly to the surface, where it would sit and simmer until it slowly died down again, or until it all tipped over. But it had never tipped over before. Jeongin was too cautious to let that happen. No, he was too afraid. And that fear was like a slap in the face, telling him he was weak and pathetic unable to fulfill his own needs. 

His fear taunted him as he trudged down the stairs leading away from the hospital. He waved away a classmate’s offer to walk him back to the university campus – it was just across from the hospital. He said a hurried goodbye to another classmate who tried to exchange notes with him. He’d think about it later, he said.

He had only one thing on his mind now. He just hoped Jisung was there.

The building where the medical school students did their practicals was situated a few blocks away from the hospital. It was convenient to transport the cadavers from the hospital to the students. 

No one in the building paid any attention to Jeongin – he was just one young student in a white coat, among several others. He didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs straight to the basement.

He was wary now. It was less common for students to be down here. But if anyone questioned him, he’d just feign ignorance and claim to be lost. He’d be pretty dumb to have to be lost after having practicals in the same building for three years, but they didn’t have to know that. There was a slim chance of anyone actually stopping him anyway. The only one who hung out in the basement was Jisung – by choice, of course.

He found the basement without running into anyone and felt a jolt of excitement as he pushed the door open. It always felt the same, every single time. 

“Jisung?” His voice echoed, around the grey cemented room, the size of a mini basketball court, cold and dark even with the fluorescent lighting.

“Over here,” the caretaker beckoned to him from a table piled high with the scraps of clothing. He was young to be a building caretaker – younger than Jeongin. But he always maintained that the job paid well, and when he felt  _ really _ embarrassed about it he always murmured something about it being ‘more of a security job anyway’.

He swept dirty blonde hair away from his face. “Got one that’s almost fresh for you,” he smiled. “Heart-failure. The fourth year taking it apart couldn’t finish so they sent it down here.”

Jeongin’s eyes lit up. It was difficult for him to come by fresh meat. Actually, it was impossible. All the corpses kept down there were stale, parts of their flesh rotting. But apparently he was in luck today.

He’d been lucky to meet Jisung – or rather, to get caught by Jisung. When Jeongin was in his first year of medical school Jisung caught him in the basement trying to hack off the arm of a corpse with a small axe. He didn’t turn Jeongin in – for a fee. And he had a strict ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy. Jeongin was all too happy about that. How would he even begin to explain his cravings?

As per their usual procedure, Jisung led Jeongin to the table where the corpse lay, skin porcelain and chest split open. A shame. 

“Heart’s still intact,” Jisung said, as though reading Jeongin’s mind.

But Jeongin shook his head, peering into the pink cavity. “Too much fat.”

He traced his fingers over the abdomen – a beer belly, bloated even more now that the middle aged man was dead. He gave the thigh a squeeze, narrowing his eyes at the yellow-white discolorations. It was hard to evaluate when the flesh was so stiff, the chemicals already shot into it. 

He shrugged. He had to make do with what he had. “I’ll take the right thigh. The left is too stiff – an excess of the liquid plastic, most likely.” Jisung waited patiently while Jeongin wired the money into his account, his smile widening with every passing second. “Don’t spend it all in one night,” Jeongin joked.

Jisung laughed, his puffy cheeks filling with color. “I’m a pro at controlling my impulses.”

_ That makes one of us _ , Jeongin offered him a wry smile.

When Jisung checked his phone and gave a satisfied nod at the amount flashing across his screen, he reached up onto a built-in shelf and pulled out a silver tray. Jeongin went straight for the vibrating handsaw – messy but efficient. He didn’t mind the debris. 

Jisung lingered today, his presence suggesting he had something to discuss with Jeongin. Jeongin knew what it was.

He tried to drown out Jisung’s voice with the buzz of the saw, cutting effortlessly through bone and flesh. Jeongin was good at this. He was more skilled than the students in his year, and more skilled than most of the students in the years beyond him. There was nothing he couldn’t learn from a book. The only reason he was at this stupid university was because it gave him easier access to this – the meat. And of course, partially because he needed a good job one day for stability and all that. 

He looked up from the nearly detached hunk of flesh, unable to hear Jisung but knowing exactly what he was asking.

“Have you thought about it? My friend really wants to meet you.”

Jeongin turned off the saw and removed his coat and gloves. He couldn’t go around with bits and pieces of flesh plastered to his clothes. Jisung would take care of the coat, have it cleaned and sent back to his dorm. 

“Maybe some other time, Jisung,” Jeongin sighed. He was friendly when he had to be. But he’d never been one to go out seeking friends. It was too easy to slip up when you were around someone you were comfortable with.

He looked longingly at the corpse, a sizeable piece of the lower body now missing. He would have taken more, but he used a communal kitchen. That was why he needed to prepare the flesh right here instead of at the dorm.

No matter. Jisung had all the tools needed.

The knife he chose had a short, thin blade, curved into a slight arc. The blade was thin and sharp – essential for tearing away the skin without taking any of the flesh with it. Jeongin wasn’t taught this – he’d had to learn on his own from trial and error. And there had been many errors made. Jisung may have had the tools but he was no surgeon. He wasn’t of any help when it came to this. But Jeongin didn’t need any help anymore.

When he’d removed the skin, and the flesh resembled a fairly large piece of meat you could pick up at any butchery, he handed the meat over to Jisung who bagged it.

He gave Jisung a pat on the back before leaving the basement through the back door only he and Jisung were aware of. The smell of what was in his backpack was telling, and he’d definitely draw attention if he went through the front. 

The back door led to a copse of trees, bordered by an old rusted fence. Jeongin knew if he followed the fence he’d end up at the back of his dorm building. Usually, he found his path undisturbed, void of anyone that could raise suspicion. But today there was someone.

He sat beneath a tree, his hood drawn up so that just a few dark curls were visible above his heavily lined almond eyes. His gaze was expectant, like he’d been waiting for Jeongin. But Jeongin knew that was impossible. No one knew he’d been down there with Jisung. And Jisung wasn’t so stupid as to give up the source of his income. He’d never tell on Jeongin.

Jeongin’s eyes drifted away from the lingerer and he clutched the straps of his backpack tightly where they sat on his tense shoulders. He followed his usual path, keeping his gaze on the shadows cast by the long blades of grass.

All the while, he could feel the stranger watching his back. It sent a shiver down his spine and made his hair stand on end. The male hadn’t tried to get his attention, hadn’t waved, hadn’t smiled, hadn’t said a word, but Jeongin had an impounding feeling that he was there just for him. 

He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, the male had his eyes fixed on Jeongin. He showed no sign of wanting to communicate even as their eyes met, so Jeongin turned away again. He hurried his steps, wanting to put a distance between himself and the stranger.

Almost at a jog, he reached the university dorm. And everything was fine. He did his homework without any difficulties, spiced his meat and placed it in the oven without any problems, and had a well-needed shower, all without anything impeding him. 

The problem arose when he’d finished showering and he picked his jeans up off the floor. The hospital security card fell out of his jeans pocket. He’d meant to throw it in the drawer with all the others he’d stolen over the years – the ones he’d stolen but had never used.

_ Because you’re too afraid,  _ that voice taunted him again.

Of course he was afraid. The place was loaded with cameras. One had to have got him nicking the security card. And there’d be a whole host of cameras recording him entering the patient’s room. It wasn’t probable that he’d be caught – it was certain.

_ But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? _

_ The bastard deserves to die. _

_ You’d be righting a wrong. _

_ And the flesh – pure meat, no embalming fluids, no liquid plastic contaminating the meat. _

_ You’d die just for another taste, wouldn’t you, Jeongin? _

On any other day he would have resisted the urge. But today – today it was so strong that the security card was still firmly gripped between his fingers. Was he prepared to die for another taste? No. No he wasn’t. 

He let the card fall into the drawer with a thud, quickly shutting it to ease the temptation. But the craving remained. Even as he tore into the flesh that he’d roasted, even as he polished off every last bite. He lay in bed staring into the darkness. He couldn’t sleep, not when the craving was so intense. He ran his fingers through his brown locks, tugging at the ends in frustration. 

Maybe he was prepared to die for another taste.

A rush of cold wind greeted him as he stepped outside the dorm building. He zipped his hoodie and slipped his hands into his pockets. He closed his fingers around the security card, like it was a talisman encouraging him to go on. 

But he stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared – stared back at the male who had his dark gaze fixed on him.

He took a step towards Jeongin who narrowed his eyes. “You followed me to my dorm. Why? Who are you?”

The stranger pushed back his hood, his lips curving into a smile. “Jisung’s friend, Chan.”

“Huh,” Jeongin regarded him suspiciously. “What did Jisung tell you?”

He ignored Jeongin’s question. “Are you going back to the hospital?”

Jeongin’s heart plummeted. He gulped, eyes widening in realization that this person knew where he was going, probably knew why…

“I don’t understand. How do you know about the hospital?” Jeongin was already trying to think of a way to get out of this mess. What would he tell the police? He’d plead guilty of course, but maybe he’d undergo a psych evaluation. He’d have to fail it. They’d be more lenient. No, what if this guy just wants money? Jeongin could pay him off, use the rest of his scholarship money…

“There’s a better way.”

“What?” Jeongin tilted his head. “What do y –”

“You can get whatever you want,” the man stared at Jeongin so intently that he almost looked away. “You can punish people who deserve to be punished. You can have human flesh – however much you want. But not the way you were just going to get it.” His smile widened, his dimples prominent. “There’s a worthier way, Jeongin. There’s always a worthier way.”

It had only been six months since he met Chan. Six glorious months. Six months of freedom that Jeongin never had before. 

The night he’d met Chan, he promised Jeongin would get everything he wanted. Everything. And he’d kept his promise. Jeongin was so happy – so, so happy. He’d do anything for Chan now, anything for the man who gave him his freedom, who showed him that there was another way – a worthier way. 

That’s the reason he was seated in this awful nightclub right now. It was one of those cheap college hangouts that Jeongin despised. But Chan needed him to be here, so here he was. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, frowning at the time. It should be starting any minute now. For the past two months he’d been attending these weekly modeling contests at Chan’s behest. He knew what Chan wanted –  _ who _ Chan wanted. And Jeongin was so close to obtaining him. He was impatient, but he knew he had to wait for the right moment.

The host was explaining the rules of the contest. Hardly anyone appeared to be listening. Half of the audience consisted of students drunk out of their minds, and the other half were supportive friends of the contestants, no doubt also drunk out of their minds.

The lights dimmed and the familiar jazz music blasted through the speakers. Jeongin shifted in his seat to face the front. And there he was. Beautiful, truly beautiful. Breathtaking. 

“Lee Minho!” the host announced.

His angular face was perfectly chiseled, his features a mask of ice. Just a mask, Jeongin knew. He appeared cold, somewhat contemptuous of everyone he set eyes on, but Jeongin had seen the insecurity lurking in his eyes, the frustration, the self-loathing…

When a hooded figure at the back of the crowd, shouted, his voice rising above everything else, “You ugly bitch!” Minho’s mask of ice melted, just for a few seconds. His shoulders tensed and then relaxed again as he walked back down the catwalk.

Once all twelve contestants had strutted the length of the catwalk, the judges colluded at a table in the far off corner. One of the judges – a red-haired woman – gave Jeongin a subtle nod which he returned.

The host announced the winner and Minho’s anger was palpable. His fists clenched at his sides, his menace-filled eyes pierced the male who accepted his prize with a bow to the judges. He was pretty – but nothing like Minho. He raked his fingers through his auburn hair as he smiled at the audience, proud of a prize Jeongin had paid for him to win.

Jeongin waited at the bar, sipping on a glass of whiskey and making small talk with the barman – another of Chan’s requests. That’s the thing about Chan; he didn’t demand but only requested. And he’d requested that Jeongin suppress his introverted demeanor, at least for a little while.  _ Talk, smile, pretend for a little while _ , he requested,  _ it’ll serve us well. _

Jeongin eyed the winner of the contest as he went around thanking those who were there to support him. When Minho reappeared from backstage, he had on a plain black hoodie and sweatpants, a complete contrast to the leather ensemble he’d donned a few minutes ago. 

Jeongin knew what was tucked in the pocket of his hoodie, knew what he was going to do with it. He clicked his tongue distastefully when Minho followed the male into the restroom. He was getting sloppier, careless and Jeongin was finding it difficult to clean up.

He’d found the winner of last weekend’s contest lying face-down in a dumpster. Dead, of course. His legs had been broken and spread wide apart, ankle bones jutting out at impossible angles. The skin up to his neck had been split and small bits of clinging flesh protruded from his bloody anus. When Jeongin had turned him over, he discovered ruptured intestines, kidneys and liver smashed into pulp and chest completely torn open. But perhaps the most interesting part was Minho’s attempt to destroy the man’s face. It had been smashed in, large pieces of the skin torn away like fabric to reveal the bone structure beneath.

Chan explained that there were two kinds of people Jeongin would meet – people who began killing on impulse and became more orderly as time passed, and people who began in a systemized manner, but became more impulsive as time passed. Minho belonged to the latter group. 

But it didn’t matter. Tonight Jeongin would begin to tame Minho’s impulses.

He followed behind Minho, surprising him when he closed the restroom door behind them. Minho’s shoulders tensed and he eyed the stall occupied by his intended victim, debating whether to get on with his task or confront Jeongin. He chose the latter.

“Do I know you?” he asked, his voice unsteady. His fingers were still in the pockets of his hoodie, gripping the knife he’d kept hidden.

“You can’t kill him in here,” Jeongin whispered so that his voice didn’t drift. “You’ll get caught, Minho.”

Minho’s eyes widened and he took a tentative step back. “Y-You… How do you –”

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” Jeongin looked at him sympathetically. “You’re frustrated. Always coming in second place. There’s always someone prettier…”

Minho looked distraught, like someone had just reached inside him and wrenched out his heart. Poor, Minho. Of course he believed he was ugly, believed that he wasn’t good enough. How could he not believe it when Jeongin paid for him to lose every contest, paid random strangers to throw insults at Minho while he walked down the street, paid for Minho’s self-loathing, for his desperation?

The cubicle door unlocked and the one Minho had been waiting for walked over to the wash basin, ignoring both of them, blind to Minho’s hateful gaze, blind to the knife that Minho had taken out of his pocket. 

Jeongin stood only a breath away from Minho now. He leaned down, whispering in his ear. “You can do it. But you’ll get caught. There’s a better way, Minho.”

Minho studied Jeongin, his lips slightly parted in disbelief. The brunette was now done at the sink and cast them a curious glance on his way out.

Jeongin smiled, fingers gently prying the knife from Minho’s grip. “I know what you want. You want everyone to know your name, you want everyone to want you. You hate that you have to compete. And that’s not all, is it?” Minho met his gaze, full of fake bravado. “You hate pretty boys, don’t you? You like carving out their prettiness. You like carving out their faces so they don’t look pretty anymore, so they don’t look like anything anymore.” Minho slowly nodded, his shoulders slumping, his insecurities bared for Jeongin to see. “Well,” Jeongin smiled, “there’s a worthier way.”

Hyunjin was a weak thing. Jeongin had killed mice with more fight in them than Hyunjin had shown. He sat despondently against the wall, his eyes closed, his hands hanging limply at his sides. 

“You need to eat.”

Hyunjin refused breakfast and they’d had to force feed him, shoving down spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. Half of it was vomited back out. Now he was intent on displaying the same defiance with lunch. And Jeongin had prepared the pasta with such care. Hyunjin had to eat. There were no two ways about it. The best meat always came from the best fed beasts.

“Hyunjin,” Jeongin sighed. “We just took two fingers. And you and I both know it’s not nearly enough for you to repent for what you’ve done.” Of course they’d be taking much more today – an arm, if Jeongin could convince Minho. Hyunjin had nice arms – no fat. 

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered open, and the chains connected to the cuffs around his wrists began to rattle sending an echo throughout the basement. “What… What have I done?”

“Don’t play dumb, Hyunjin,” Jeongin shook his head. “You think because you moved halfway across the world no one would know who you are and what you’ve done?” Chan knew. Chan always knows, always tells them which ones need redemption. “He was a child, Hyunjin, and your own flesh and blood.”

Hyunjin shifted to reach the cup of water placed beside him. He tried several times before succeeding in gripping it between his three trembling fingers. “Our family was perfect before that kid came along. He was a liability. But they couldn’t see it. Anyway, I made the liability go away. They should’ve appreciated that.” He narrowed his eyes. “But that’s none of your fucking business. Is that why you’re doing this? To fucking punish me? Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes at the ranting. At least he was talking. “Redemption. We want to help you achieve redemption, Hyunjin. We want you to repent.”

“And once I repent,” Hyunjin looked thoughtful, “you’ll let me go?”

Jeongin smiled at this. “Yes, that’s the plan.” 

Hyunjin pulled the bowl of pasta towards him. “Okay.”

Stupid child. He didn’t regret murdering his brother with a pickaxe. He would never repent, never achieve redemption – no one ever did.

Minho sat in front of the mirror, as he often did. Jeongin stood in the doorway of their bedroom observing him. “I’ll start preparations in an hour.”

Minho smiled tugging his robe around him and tying the belt loosely. “Have you decided what we should take today?”

Jeongin bit his lip. Minho would insist on keeping Hyunjin whole for as long possible. He liked toying with his food, liked prolonging the pain. “His arm.”

“What?” Minho laughed incredulously. “The whole thing? Already, Jeongin? Have you depleted your stock already?”

“No,” Jeongin pursed his lips. Minho didn’t understand because he wasn’t in this for the enjoyment of the flesh. Yes, he devoured the sacrifice just as greedily as Jeongin, but it wasn’t something he couldn’t live without. He never had the same cravings as Jeongin. “You know I like my meat fresh. Freezing it makes the taste less… satisfying.”

Minho regarded him with a considerate stare. “Up to the elbow, then. And no more, please.”

Jeongin nodded. It wasn’t what he’d wanted but he’d make do with it. 

“And don’t forget,” Minho lined his eyes with charcoal black eyeliner, “we have a guest tonight.”

Ah yes. They had a guest. It was rare for them to have a guest apart from Chan who was present on The Final Day of every ritual, but it wasn’t their first time having a guest either. Chan sometimes requested their help mentoring those who were new to this way of life. 

“I hope this one isn’t too nervous,” Jeongin muttered, moving to stand behind Minho, placing his hands on his shoulders.

Minho peered at him through the mirror. “I don’t know. He seemed a bit timid when I met him. But Chan approves.”

Jeongin smiled. Minho always said Chan’s name with the same reverence that he did. It pleased him to know they shared the same respect for that man. Just as Jeongin and Chan shared their own secrets, he knew Minho and Chan shared just as many. 

He pressed Minho’s shoulders, fingers trying to alleviate the ever-present tension. “You’re so pretty, my love,” he cooed, indulging him in a compliment.

Minho’s lips curved into a slight smile, eyes never leaving his reflection in the mirror. He hummed and raised his fingers to his face, gliding them over his skin. “Not pretty enough, Jeongin. You saw Hyunjin, didn’t you? You saw his face.”

_ Oh dear. _ Minho was never satisfied with his appearance, partly due to vanity, partly due to an absence of self-esteem. And Jeongin knew he had played a part in that, but it had been necessary. Still, there were times when Minho hit rock bottom, like today. Hyunjin would pay heavily for that, and Jeongin would bear the guilt until he reminded himself that Hyunjin deserved it.

He leaned down to place a kiss on the top of Minho’s head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He won’t have that face for much longer. A few more days…”

“Are you going to fight me?” Jeongin hunched down beside Hyunjin. “If I let you out of these restraints, will you fight me? Or will you willingly accompany me to the altar?” It could go either way – Jeongin was always prepared for both. 

“No wine today?” Hyunjin stared. “Nothing to numb the pain?”

“Oh, no,” Jeongin sighed. “I’m afraid not, Hyunjin. No anesthetic today. Today, you suffer so you can repent.”

Hyunjin let out a weak laugh. “Then how can you think I won’t try to fucking fight my way out of this place? Of course I’m gonna run.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Jeongin shrugged, standing up. He retrieved a syringe from the plastic bag he’d brought with him. “This isn’t an anesthetic but it’ll make you sleep for a bit while we prepare you.”

“Are you going to take more fingers today?” It was laughable how nonchalant he’d tried to sound while asking that question. But his fear and his nerves showed in the tremble of his body, and the way he licked his lips as he tried to look for a way out. 

“Don’t worry,” Jeongin flashed him a smile. “However much I take, I’ll mend you. I’ll fix you up. Fixed you up after I took those fingers, didn’t I?”

“So you’re a doctor?”

“I went to medical school for a while,” Jeongin admitted. “But I’m not a doctor, no.” He approached Hyunjin, squatting down beside him. “This will sting, but only for a few seconds.”

He plunged the needle into the side of Hyunjin’s neck. For a moment, the blonde’s eyes shot wide open and he choked out a gasp. And then his eyes began to close.

“Do you think he’ll trouble us?” Minho asked from the top of the staircase.

Jeongin nodded. “Probably. We’ll make sure the restraints are firm so he doesn’t spook our guest too much.”

Minho visibly cringed. “That would be the worst kind of first time. And more so, if he decides to back out. What if he wants to back out, Jeongin? Chan wouldn’t be happy.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeongin clicked his tongue as he began to undo the restraints. “Chan chooses them well. He would never choose someone with a weak resolve.” Nerves were common, but Chan would never choose someone who’d back out of a ritual. It annoyed Jeongin that Minho would even have such doubts. After all Chan had done for them, he should be more respectful, more understanding. 

“You‘re right,” Minho conceded with a sigh, seating himself on the bottommost stair “I’m just a bit jittery. You know, I don’t like him, this… Hyunjin.” He never liked any of the chosen ones. But Jeongin knew he especially hated Hyunjin. He was a bit prettier than the others; it was no fault of his but he’d suffer for it if Minho had his way. 

“He’s nothing like you,” Jeongin reassured him, undoing the last of Hyunjin’s restraints.

Minho scoffed, not quite believing him. “I’ll clean him up and then you can take him upstairs.”

Jeongin nodded and watched as Minho settled beside Hyunjin, a pail of water at his feet. “Don’t be impulsive,” he warned.

Minho shot him an annoyed glance. “Just cleaning him up,” he muttered.

But Jeongin had cause for concern. There had been several occasions where Minho had acted impulsively and fucked up the ritual because he just couldn’t wait. Nevertheless, Jeongin left him in the basement. 

When he returned to the basement half an hour later, he’d already donned the navy blue ceremonial garb. Around his neck hung a simple necklace made of tiny parchment colored bones – a gift from Minho who’d taken to the craft. He found it therapeutic, and who was Jeongin to argue with that hobby? Especially when it yielded such beautiful results. 

Hyunjin’s body was clean, void of scum, vomit and urine. The faint scent of cloves hung in the air. Good, Minho was sensible enough to stick to the conventions of their ritual. When he brought Hyunjin upstairs, setting him down on the stone table, Minho was already on his knees beside the tapestry, eyes closed, head bowed. Jeongin had no doubts about what he was asking for. 

“He’s ready,” Jeongin said after securing Hyunjin’s hands and feet in place, opting to use iron rather than rope today. He couldn’t have Hyunjin stumbling around mid-ritual.

Just as Minho stood up, a steady beeping sound filled the room. “He’s here,” Minho smiled. “I’ll bring him up.”

Lee Felix was a dainty, small-framed thing. With a sharp jaw, slightly rounded cheeks and a smattering of freckles, he was pretty too. But he wasn’t the kind to flaunt it; Minho would appreciate that. Minho had given him the ceremonial robe, making sure he wore it before entering the ritual room. It was one of Minho’s favorite ones – a dark shade of purple – that in itself was telling that he liked Felix.

The boy with lavender hair fixed his wide eyes on Hyunjin, his footsteps trepid. 

“Hello, Felix,” Jeongin greeted with a smile.

Felix tore his eyes away from Hyunjin and greeted Jeongin with muted enthusiasm. Nerves. But it was fine; everyone had them at first.

They gave him a moment to study Hyunjin, to see what has become of his ‘friend’. He trailed his fingers over the scabbing gashes on his chest, eyes flicking to his hand. “It’s not so bad,” he said, turning to them. “I thought there would be… more.” 

Jeongin was pleased with his response. “The initial sacrifice is always the smallest,” he said. “But today, we get to have more fun.”

Felix nodded, tiny fingers clenched around the belt on his robe. “What do I do first?” 

“Do you see the symbols etched into the tapestry?” Minho asked, and Felix stepped closer to the wall-hanging, nodding when he saw them. “How good are your drawing skills?”

Felix looked confused, and Jeongin chuckled. “Come,” he instructed, a sharp knife in his hand. 

No sooner had he pressed the tip of the knife into Hyunjin’s skin, did his eyes shoot open. He gulped for air, surprised at the sudden influx of pain. Jeongin paid him no mind as he proceeded to carve the symbol onto his chest. Hyunjin gasped out frantic pleas, struggling against his restraints so that Jeongin was forced to place an arm onto his torso, holding him still to complete the symbol. 

“Minho,” Jeongin held out the knife.

Minho took his place, leaned down, and began to carve. Felix stepped closer to Hyunjin now, allowing the hysterical male to finally set eyes on him.

Hyunjin looked  _ devastated _ . 

“Felix?” his voice broke. “Felix? You… Fuck! No,” he shook his head in disbelief. “No!”

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin,” Felix smiled wistfully. “It’s the only way. I would have killed you anyway, you know. But this is the worthier way to do it.”

“What?” Hyunjin sounded crushed. “You bastard. You fucking bastard!”

Jeongin placed a reassuring hand on Felix’s shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing,” he reminded him.

And Felix smiled as he took the knife from Minho’s outstretched hand. His eyes flickered to the tapestry, as he chose a symbol, one to link to the two already on Hyunjin’s chest. They were carved lightly so that he didn’t lose too much blood too fast, a simple outline in red. 

Felix touched the spot on Hyunjin’s chest reserved for his symbol. But Hyunjin began thrashing against his restraints, a hoarse scream bellowed from his throat. Jeongin had to laugh at this. 

“It’s futile, Hyunjin,” he said. “No one’s going to hear you. Stop fighting this and it’ll be done faster.”

Hyunjin panted, his movements slowing down. “Don’t do this,” he focused on Felix. “Lix, we’re friends!”

“Friends?” Felix spat. “Fuck you, Hyunjin. You never cared about anyone other than yourself. You used me, always asking me to hook you up with someone. Is there anyone I know who hasn’t fucked you?” Hyunjin opened his mouth and had barely let out a syllable before Felix pressed the knife into his skin. “Shut the fuck up, Hyunjin. You’re a slut and you deserve this. We’re all better off without you.”

“Very good,” Minho placed an arm around Felix’s shoulders. “You’re doing well, Felix. Remember, as you carve, keep in mind what you want most.”

Jeongin kept his arm around Hyunjin’s torso, restricting his thrashing. “Sorry he’s making it difficult for you, Felix. The skin isn’t an easy canvas.”

“It’s fine,” Felix took his time, glancing up at the tapestry every now and then, ignoring the hisses and curses spewing from Hyunjin’s mouth. Chan does choose them well.

“Felix, you know I have money,” Hyunjin tried. “Anything you want, just ask –”

“You can give me everything I want, Hyunjin,” Felix nodded. “And this is the only way.” With a few more strokes of the knife, he was done. The symbol was a bit roughly drawn from where his fingers faltered and his grip on the blade slipped, and it wasn’t as smoothly or elegantly carved as Jeongin and Minho’s but it was a great start.

“What do you wa-want, Felix?” Hyunjin asked Felix, whimpering mid-sentence because Jeongin’s fingers were tracing the artwork on his chest, the pads of his fingers pressing into the cuts, allowing more blood to seep through, just for Minho. 

Felix smiled. “Changbin. I want Changbin.”

Hyunjin scoffed in disbelief. “Take him! Fucking  _ take _ him!” Of course, someone like Hyunjin would think it was that simple.

“How?” Felix folded his arms. “Do I ask him nicely, ‘Hey, Changbin, will you forget about that whore Hyunjin you love and love me instead?’ or do I pay him, handle everything with money the way you do? Can he be bought, Hyunjin? I don’t fucking think so.” He stared down at Hyunjin, pity in his eyes. “This is the only way. It’s the only way to get what I want. It’s the worthier way. But someone like you will never understand.”

Jeongin handed the knife to Minho, drawing Felix back. The younger looked at him with furrowed brows, but stepped back with him. “All rituals are specific to the person doing them,” he explained, keeping his voice down to a whisper. “Chan told you that, didn’t he?”

Felix nodded, eyes on Minho who scoured Hyunjin’s thighs with the serrated edge of the knife. “He said that he’ll meet with me if I complete this ritual successfully. He’ll –” A high pitched scream made him pause and Jeongin had to place a hand on his shoulder to garner his attention again. “He’ll teach me, tell me what I have to do.”

Hyunjin’s thighs glistened, the oblique red lines intersecting, blood seeping into the stone table. Jeongin kept his eyes on Felix, gauging his reaction to the spectacle playing out before them. The younger didn’t seem to be affected by Hyunjin’s pleas for help and his pain-ridden cries. But his eyes widened when Minho began to mount Hyunjin, sliding down onto his cock.

Jeongin frowned when Felix averted his eyes. He placed a finger on Felix’s cheek, prodding him to face forward. “Watch,” he instructed. “There are things that make all of us uncomfortable, things that go beyond our limits, which is why we push our boundaries further, to be open to more.”

He could tell it was hard for the younger to watch, especially when Minho began to roll his hips, smothering his hands in the blood that coated Hyunjin’s thighs.

“Why?” Felix gasped, a look of revulsion on his face. “Why is he…?”

Jeongin almost laughed. “It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? But it was a suggestion from Chan, hence a necessity, for Minho.” 

Minho was rubbing the blood onto his arms, the way one would lather soap onto your skin. He ignored the squirming male beneath him, and pressed down onto the lacerations to draw out more blood. He trailed his blood soaked fingers over his chest, around his neck, onto his face. He closed his eyes as he masked his face with the scarlet substance, bouncing up and down on Hyunjin’s cock, faster with each passing second. 

Jeongin had to resist the urge to lift Minho off Hyunjin’s cock and onto his own. There would be time for that later. 

He was panting, riding Hyunjin’s cock frantically, desperately; eager to be filled up with his cum. Minho would cite it as being for ritualistic purposes, but Jeongin knew better. He inwardly sighed, wondering why he loved his slut so much. 

Minho, his face a mask of drying blood, threw Jeongin a beseeching look. Of course Jeongin knew what he wanted. He stepped away from Felix, approaching the stone table. In his hand he already had the silver ridged plug that had been chosen by Minho.

“Jeongin, I…” Minho panted, a whine escaping from between his parted lips. “I need all of it.”

“I know, love,” Jeongin reassured him, placing a kiss on the back of his neck. He looked down at Hyunjin who’d stopped trying to fight his restraints. He laid back, eyes closed, emitting soft whimpers like a wounded animal. He hadn’t vomited today – Jeongin had to give him credit for that.

Jeongin’s fingers trailed the length of Minho’s erection, stopping at the head to press his thumb into the slit. Minho moaned in response throwing his head back against Jeongin’s shoulder, a silent plea for more. Jeongin slid his hand along Minho’s length, feeling the wet skin of his cock move beneath his fingers, slow, and then faster as Minho’s body began trembling. Strings of cum decorated Hyunjin’s torso, sticking to the crevices of his abs, joining the blood to form a stunning blend of red and white.

Hyunjin let out a high pitched whine, and then a ragged breath, the base of his cock pulsing, spilling his cum inside Minho. Jeongin wasn’t surprised that Minho only halted his movements for two seconds, lifting himself off Hyunjin’s dick after it served its purpose. 

On all fours, he shot Jeongin an urgent look over his shoulder. And Jeongin obliged; he pushed the plug in, inch by inch, placing a soft kiss on one cheek before pushing it all the way in. Later, he’d finger Hyunjin’s cum out and would let Minho devour it just the way he liked it.

He helped Minho put his robe back on before he beckoned to Felix. This was the part he enjoyed most. Minho retrieved the tray that held his instruments, and Jeongin scanned them carefully. Perhaps Hyunjin had too, because he began squirming with a renewed burst of energy. Jeongin clicked his tongue, picking up the scalpel. 

“Be still, Hyunjin,” he said blandly, hardly an order because he knew Hyunjin would lose it as soon as he began slicing into his flesh.

As expected, Hyunjin began to thrash as soon as he set sight on the scalpel poised between Jeongin’s fingers. But to Jeongin’s surprise – and it was a pleasant one – Felix was the one who placed an arm across Hyunjin’s chest. Maybe it was that – that Felix was the only one among them that  _ should have _ held a miniscule fraction of sympathy for Hyunjin, and the finality of that action – holding him down, which caused Hyunjin to begin sobbing, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, his words barely audible between his sobs. “I’m  _ so  _ sorry! For everything. For my brother, for Changbin.  _ Everything _ !”

Jeongin clicked his tongue. “You’re a liar, Hyunjin. You’ve never been sorry. You’ve defiled and misused the body you’ve been given. Your soul can repent, but only when it leaves this body.” He let Hyunjin’s cries bounce off the walls as he made his first incision, along the elbow, like he’d promised Minho.

He eyed Felix who had stiffened at the sight of the gaping wound, pink muscular tissue, nerves and bone all bared for them to see thanks to the fish-mouthed incision. Perhaps sensing Felix’s discomfort, Hyunjin trained his eyes on him. 

“Felix, please,” he begged, his voice hoarse. “Please! It hurts, Felix! It fucking hurts!” 

Felix averted his eyes from the wound, his chest rising and falling rapidly.  _ Oh, no _ . Jeongin couldn’t allow that. “Felix,” Jeongin held out the scalpel, and the lavender haired male gaped at him, hand shaking as he grasped the instrument, almost losing his grip. “You’re going to cut through this portion of muscle,” he indicated with his fingers, “straight through these tendons. We need to sever the flesh to expose the bone, okay?”

He saw a look of surprise flicker across Minho’s face, and he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. This was rare, he understood. While this was the part Jeongin enjoyed because of his skill set, Minho never took an interest in it. This arrangement suited Jeongin who wouldn’t have liked sharing this part of the ritual anyway. But today, he offered it to Felix. First times were always difficult, even if it was with someone you truly despise. So for this, Jeongin sympathized with Felix. 

He placed a firm hand on Felix’s grip, steadying his shaky hand, helping him to make the first few slashes. Sometime between the first and second incision, Hyunjin had passed out from the pain, offering them a few moments of silence. Slipping in and out of consciousness was expected. There was only so much a human could take before they shut down.

Only when Felix’s eyes had narrowed in concentration and Jeongin was sure his panic had subsided, did he remove the scalpel from the boy’s hand, making fast work of severing the remaining mass of tissue and muscle. 

Hyunjin had woken again, flying into a panic at the sight of the blood soaked table and his hand nearly split into two. He’d lost the ability to scream, and all that left his mouth were throaty whines, and when he was too tired even for that, his mouth simply hung open, his face a mask of terror and pain.

Felix had relieved Minho from carrying the tray of medical equipment, and now watched as Minho switched on the saw for Jeongin. He knew the procedure by now. 

It took less than three seconds for the saw to cut cleanly through the exposed bone, severing Hyunjin’s hand into two. Jeongin wiped off some of the debris that sprayed onto his face, and gestured for Minho to take the hunk of flesh and begin the cooking process. He needed to seal this wound or Hyunjin wouldn’t make it more than a few minutes.

He’d already filled the surgical stapler with cartridges before the ritual, making sure that he could seal the wound quickly, reducing blood loss. From earlier mistakes, he’d learned not to take blood loss lightly. He eyed Hyunjin who kept drifting in and out of consciousness, murmuring incoherently, too drained to even exhibit his pain. 

He used a cloth to dry his blood soaked hands, or they’d be too slippery to handle Hyunjin’s wet skin. Satisfied, he pulled the flaps of skin over the remaining bone, using the stapler to seal the flaps together with titanium staples. Hyunjin twisted and writhed his body to no avail.

“Almost done,” Jeongin murmured, examining the neat line of staples over the stump of bandaged flesh. He sighed and stepped away, barely glancing at Hyunjin before the smell of roasted flesh tempted him away. 

Felix and Minho stood patiently to the side, the sizzling flesh, cut into small pieces, resting on the metal grid beside them.

“You don’t have to eat much,” Minho was telling Felix. “Whatever you can stomach. It’s your first time.”

Felix, as with any other first-timer, looked somewhat pale, prone to pass out at any second. “A finger, perhaps?” Jeongin suggested. “You don’t have to finish.”

Felix nodded quickly, accepting the offering from Jeongin. Minho chose his own, waiting for Jeongin to begin.

The skin was charred, easy to pull away from the flesh. As he’d expected, Hyunjin had little fat. He looked now, at the boy who lay flat on the stone table, unmoving. His head was turned to the side, dilated eyes taking in the scene before him. 

Jeongin wondered what it was like to watch as people tore into your flesh, indulging on it, savoring the taste. And how Jeongin savored it – the flesh, and the pain in Hyunjin’s eyes. Hyunjin had begun his journey to redemption.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
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CuriousCat


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